December 5th
by Neon Panda 03
Summary: Hotch returns home from a long day at the BAU to a horrifying scene that will change his life forever. 5 years later he is reminded of that horrendous night yet, a letter from a surprising sender leaves him with a small piece of comfort. Rated T for mild swearing and goriness. Not Slash.


~December 5th , 2016, 9:30pm~

"Jack, I'm home!" Hotch shouted as he dropped his briefcase onto the ground with a thud. Another long day at work left him achy and fatigued. He peered down at his watch and cringed, the babysitter left over 10 minutes ago and even though Jack was 11 he didn't want him home alone. No matter how old Jack is he'll always be Hotch's little boy.

"Jack? Where are you?" The agent called out again, frowning, the only sound that returned back to him was the eerie creaking of the floorboards beneath his shined shoes. Hesitantly, Hotch climbed up the stairs and knocked on Jack's bedroom door. His calloused knuckles hit with door three times but, received no answer.

"I'm coming in." He spoke through the door, trying to mask his worry and concern. Maybe Jack had a bad day at school, or maybe… he was mad at him for coming home late.

"Ja-" He began to speak but stopped when he noticed the scene before him. The baby blue walls and the pearl white carpet were splattered with ruby-red blood. Jack was lying on top of his favorite Spiderman sheets; pale, still, bloody. His caramel brown eyes stared blankly at the star covered ceiling, his lips slightly agape.

"Jack… Jack, No!" Hotch's voice cracked as he ran to the bed. Burning tears fell from his eye as he dropped to his knees beside the bed.

"Please, no!" He sobbed, wrapping his arms around his son. Thoughts raced through his mind as he screamed in agony. This couldn't be happening to him! Jack couldn't be dead! Carefully, Hotch climbed up onto the bed and held Jack in his arms.

"It'll be okay... it will all- be okay." The man whispered into his son ears before resting his head above Jack's.

"Hush little baby, don't you cry, Daddy's going to sing you a lullaby. Daddy's going to rock, rock, rock you to sleep; he'll stay with you 'till morning so don't make a peep. Now just close you're tired eyes the sound of the night won't be your cries because Daddy's going to sing you a lullaby" Hotch rocked back and forth on the bed, denial filled his throbbing head as he sang the same lullaby Halley sang to Jack.

~December 5th, 11:00pm~

A loud knock thrashed the door with an urgent force; on the other side was Morgan.

"Hotch, c'mon man open up! Your neighbors called and said something was wrong!" He rubbed his temples with his middle and index finger- it was way too late for him to be doing this. After shouting for a few minutes something in his chest curled painfully.

"Something's definitely wrong." Morgan murmured under his breath as he took his set of keys out- he flipped through a few before finding he one Hotch gave him.

"I'm coming in!" Morgan gave a warning as he entered the house. After searching the first floor he moved on to the second. Just as he hit the last step he heard someone moving and instantly clenched his fists.

"Hotch?" He asked- confused, as he pushed open an already opened door. "Hotch… Shit!" He punched the doorframe before placing his hands on his head. "Nonono… No Hotch!" He darted over to the bed and tried to get the other man to get up.

"No Morgan! I can't leave him alone! NO!" Hotch screeched and sobbed as he was ripped away from his son.

"Hotch… I'm sorry, I'm so…. So sorry…" Morgan shook his head as Hotch buried his face into his chest.

"My fault…" Hotch hoarsely whispered.

"No… Don't do this to yourself man, don't. It's not your fault." Morgan rubbed the dark-haired man's back soothingly.

"It is… If I was home even minutes earlier… this wouldn't have happened! I… I wasn't there for Jack!" he rocked back and forth, raving and crying desperately.

"Oh man…" Morgan closed his eyes, allowing a tear to fall. Somewhere in the distance Jack's spirit was looking down at the house, begging for his father to help him.

~December 4th , 2021, 11:58pm~

Tiredly, Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose out of habit as a quiet knock at his door grabbed his attention. "Come in." He spoke sternly, still looking down at the file of his newest case. "Mail for Aaron Hotchner." A tall and thin man entered his office before placing an envelope on his desk and leaving. After a moment of staring at it, Hotch opened the letter.

_Dear Aaron Hotcher, _

_ It is December 5__th__ now, isn't it?_

_December 5__th__ was the day you're son, Jack, was murdered- I'm sure you haven't forgotten, it's only been 5 years. I am the man who killed your son, don't believe me? How else would I know that he was lying on Spiderman sheets, or that he was wearing his cars and trucks pajamas? Believe me now? Anyways, I want to apologize and make amends. First, I want you to know that this is all my doing- nobody asked me to do this and it isn't some AAA rehab step either- it's all me. _

_That night my wife left me and took my son away from me so, I thought if I took someone else's son away I'd feel better- I wasn't thinking straight, I was drunk. I'm not saying this is an excuse I'm just giving you an answer so maybe you'll spend one less day wondering; _

_'why?'_

_My son was killed only months after I killed yours. It ruined my life, he was the only one I had left- the only one I loved. I have felt your suffering- it was horrible. I am so sorry, so very sorry for everything. I don't expect you to forgive me or to reply- I just wanted you to know that I feel absolutely horrible._

_I hope that brings you comfort today, it probably won't though. _

_Today is the anniversary of your son's death, and by the time you have read this letter- it will have became mine too._

_ My deepest apologizes, _

_ Samuel H. Collins_

_"Yesterday we laughed, today we cry, tomorrow we heal." _


End file.
